The Heart of Emrys
by a-wonderful-afterlife
Summary: The Druids have a prophesy. About a Once and Future King and his friend, a warlock, known as Emrys. Uther thinks he can be this King, but only the rightful king will ever hold Emrys' heart, and all Uther has is his pity. Can be read as slash if you're so inclined. Heavy Bromance. T cause I could.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N : I wasn't planning on uploading this until I came back from my trip (from the 30th July to the 7th August - I'll be gone throughout then), but seeing as my muse for Without Arms and Armour has flown out of the window, I'm uploading this now to try and tide you all over :)**

**This was meant to be a oneshot, but when I got to the end of it, I just kept on writing and writing. Now I have almost four chapters worth of the story. I'm labelling it as complete because I'm happy to leave it as is and just write the rest for myself (and my beta, who seems to enjoy reading it as much as I love writing writing it)**

**If I get fifteen reviews in favour of me continuing this, by the time I've finished writing Without Arms, I'll carry on. Fifteen reviews is a reasonable number, isn't it ?**

**Beta'd by BeyondTheStorm.**

**Hope you enjoy :)**

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Chapter 1

The druid knelt on the floor of the throne room before the King, Uther Pendragon, shaking with fear as the guards held him tightly by the arms so he could not escape.

"This prophesy... Tell me what you know of it," Uther commanded, his voice stern and deep with restrained emotion. His eyes were harsh as they took in the sight of the man sat quivering before him - he hated to be in need of the sorcerer. The magic-user should be chained up in the dungeon awaiting the pyre, not dirtying the floor of Uther's castle.

The druid glanced up and around at those that had gathered, swallowing nervously as he examined the faces of everyone around him. Most looked upon him in fear and anger of what he could do, what they thought he might do, and what they thought he has done to them and others like them. Some were curious as to what he had to say, and one...one boy, barely a man yet, stood shaking just as the druid was, watching from the back in terror of what might happen when Uther heard of the prophecy from the mouth of one that had created it.

News of the prophecy had spread like wild fire through the kingdom. None knew who had started the rumours, as many and varied as they were, but every version held the same grains of truth – the druids knew the whole story, the druids were searching for those that would carry out destiny. _The druids were looking for The Once and Future King and the warlock named Emrys._

The druid tore his gaze from the boy and stared down at where his hands were fisted into the teal cloak still fastened at his throat, saddened by what he was about to do because he knew exactly who that boy was. He simply prayed that Uther did not lash out as they all feared he would.

"For centuries, Sire, our prophets and seers have spoken of a time when peace would prevail over all of Albion, a single land united under one ruler." The druid spoke slowly and deliberately, but his voice shook as he looked back up, never letting his eyes fall on Uther. "One King will ally all the realms of Albion and then rule over them in a time of peace and prosperity for all peoples."

"And this is your..._Once and Future King_, is it?" Uther sneered. Even he could not mask his curiosity, however. _One King for all the land of Albion..._ "What of this Emrys figure, then? Why is he so important so be specifically named?"

"Yes, Sire, it is. But Emrys..." The druid purposely stared at the floor again. "Emrys is vital to the King's survival. It is said that the two sides of the same coin are drawn to each other, drawn to protect and serve each other. One half cannot survive without the other-"

"Stop talking in riddles and explain yourself," the Prince snapped from where he stood at his father's right hand.

The druid bowed his head, understanding that it might be difficult for the Pendragons to understand what he meant. It went unnoticed to all but a few that the druid had not bowed even slightly to Uther. "Sires, you see, the King and Emrys...they are described often as a coin. A coin has two sides, two _halves_. Their misgivings are the other's strengths, and when they are together, they are truly a sight to behold. It is believed that one side is power, while the other, wisdom. Emrys, even now, protects the King from any and all who oppose him, whether that threat is known to the King or not. And without Emrys, the King would surely fall, failing to claim that which is rightfully his. What is rightfully _theirs_."

"So this King," Uther leaned forwards on his throne, elbows braced on his knees and his hands clasped beneath his chin, "needs Emrys - a warlock, you say – to be able to claim his seat as the ruler of Albion? And yet if Emrys is so powerful, why does he not simply take the throne for himself?"

Many appeared to agree with Uther's thinking, but the druid smiled and shook his head.

"Emrys is a peaceful man. He serves and loves his King, and although he is the most powerful warlock to have yet existed and the most powerful being that will ever exist, he needs the King as much as the King needs Emrys. Emrys, because of your laws, has been forced to hide himself, and if he is revealed before the King is ready to accept him, then he would not fight against any decision His King makes, even if it was to have him executed. But also, if the King by chance died, then without someone to anchor him, to give his love and loyalty to, Emrys' power would either fade and his enemies would seek to destroy him while he is weak, or the sheer amount of raw power that he holds within himself would drive him insane until _It_ destroyed him."

A sudden choked gasp from somewhere at the side drew some of the attention away from the druid, but the servant started to cough, masking the way he had gasped in fear of the words being spoken. It seemed that fear was all that could be felt, and slowly, as the servant calmed a little, all eyes returned to the druid and Uther Pendragon.

Uther stared down at the man for several long minutes. It was Arthur who finally broke the silence, stepping forwards slightly and feeling the gaze of the prisoner even before he locked eyes with him.

"You said Emrys is protecting the King right _now_. Do you know who they are?" Arthur asked carefully. He wasn't afraid of the druid – druids were peaceful and the man hadn't used the slightest amount of magic or even attempted to get away. No, he was afraid of whether or not his father would react badly to him suggesting that _He_, Uther Pendragon, was unworthy of the throne of the Once and Future King.

The druid smiled softly again, nodding gracefully. "We do. We all do."

"Will you tell us?" Arthur asked, before his father had a chance to open his mouth.

As it was, Uther appeared to want to protest, but instead his mouth was set in a grim line and he nodded for the druid to answer, perturbed by the way the sorcerer would not take his eyes from Arthur.

"I will not give you their names. None of us would betray them like that, even to the common people." He carried on again quickly here, seeing the objection growing on the faces of the two men before him. "But I can tell you that the King is not yet a King and Emrys is his loyal protector and advisor, and has been since the moment they met each other."

"So the King is actually a commoner?" Uther scowled, sitting upright in offence.

"No, Sire. He has royal blood. The people would not accept him if he did not have a suitable blood line, despite the fact that even without it, he would be worth the throne a thousand times over. But Sire..." the druid paused, once more nervous and unsure of his words. The court was silent around him and he struggled to find the courage to say what he needed to. "Sire, I can also tell you that the King...he is...not you, Sire."

Uther's eyes widened with shock and anger, for though his words were nervous, the druid had still sounded sure of himself, as if Uther not being the King of prophecy was common knowledge and a _proven_ fact.

"What?" Uther demanded, voice cold and quite with barely withheld malice. Arthur winced ever so slightly, and the servant that the druid had been avoiding looking at slipped over to the nearest side door, ready to leave the room at a moment's notice. "How can you be so sure that I am not He? How can you claim that I am unworthy?"

The druid found himself back in the exact same position as when he had been roughly forced to his knees earlier: being stared down at by an angry king that wanted to do nothing but execute him while he sat shaking and fearing for Emrys and the true King of Albion.

"Sire, we know because Emrys does not love you. Emrys has shown that although he will not rid you of the throne upon which you are sat, he will never love you as he loves His King. You have condemned him, turned His King against his kind and slaughtered his kin, while he must stand aside and do nothing for fear of being found and killed, himself.

"Sire, the only one that shall be known as The Once and Future King of all Albion is the one that holds the warlock's heart."

**Word count: 1,521**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N This is going against everything I said I was going to do, but with the stats for this story shooting through the roof, I've kind of decided _to hell_ with what I said before, you guys have been brilliant. I was blown away by the response to just the first chapter and I'm being completely honest when I say I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH!_  
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**Anyway, I'll shut up now. Here's chapter 2, four days early!**

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Chapter 2

The court fell silent once again as everyone looked to the King to see if they could gauge his response. Unexpectedly, none of them could. Uther's expression was guarded and full of so many different emotions that they blurred, and few could be made out in the taught lines of his face and the tension in his shoulders. His hands were grasping at the arm rests of the throne, but he'd been holding onto it like that since the druid had started speaking of the prophecies.

At long last, Uther schooled his expression properly, returning to being the cool, calm and ruthless man that the kingdom had grown to respect.

"Take him away," he said flippantly, relaxing back into his throne as he waved a hand for the guards to do as he had said.

The druid's eyes widened, but he didn't fight back when the guards pulled him to his feet and marched him out of the room. Obviously, they took him down to the dungeons, but no one really cared about that for a moment, because Uther's calm had turned into contemplation. Everyone waited with baited breath to hear what he was thinking. Even Arthur was watching his father carefully, waiting for him to issue some kind of order.

It seemed like an age before Uther looked back up at those gathered in the room, then motioned for his son to step forward.

Trepidation coiled in Arthur's gut as he went to stand before his father, bowing his head a little in the proper manner of respect the King deserved. His mind was whirring around all the possibilities of who this so called Once and Future King could be, but he was continuously drawing blanks.

"Arthur, I want you to find out as much about this King and his pet..._warlock_ and report back to me. And compile a list of anyone that could turn out to be the King the druid spoke of, no matter how slim the chance. He said that they're of royal blood but are not an actual King. Have Geoffrey help you if needed," Uther instructed.

Arthur bowed. "Right away, Father," he acquiesced, promptly turning on his heel and striding confidently from the room. It barely took a glance in his manservant's direction to spur Merlin into actionas well,and the other man was quick to follow in his master's wake.

The pair strode silently through the castle halls, Merlin at Arthur's side now they were out of sight of the Prince's father. It didn't escape the blonde's notice that his manservant was being uncharacteristically quiet, but for now he stayed his tongue. They would be able to talk without anyone overhearing them when they reached Arthur's chambers.

Merlin pushed open the door to the Prince's chambers, looking baffled as Arthur paused and motioned for Merlin to go ahead and enter before him. Arthur had never done anything like that before, and it baffled the young manservant as to why he would do so now. Confused, Merlin obeyed, going over to carry on putting away Arthur's clothes. The summons to attend court had been sudden and unexpected, so the pair had simply left what they were doing and went as called.

It was because of this, turning his back on the Prince, that he didn't see the look of apprehension cross said blonde's face as the door shut with a soft click. Arthur remained near the door, his arms folded across his chest as he watched his servant work.

Merlin moved with a practised efficiency that Arthur rarely found any qualms with, despite his superfluous words to the contrary. It amazed him sometimes just how well Merlin knew him. His favourite shirts were always washed quickly and stored in the easiest-to-reach part of his wardrobe, and more often than not, Merlin could anticipate when Arthur would want to go for a hunt and have everything packed accordingly (sometimes before Arthur even tells him to goand do so). Merlin was - and he cringed to admit it - the perfect servant, not including all of his moaning, anti-bootlicking behaviour, and apparent disrespect.

So when the silence persisted, Arthur knew that it would have to be him that breached the subject hanging heavily in the air between the two young men.

"Are you all right, Merlin?" the Prince started amicably, striding over to his desk and the unfinished paperwork strewn over its surface.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arthur saw Merlin jump, pause, and then turn on his heel to face his prince. Arthur sat at his desk, his expression and body language carefully composed and neutral. He couldn't relax, not after that business with the druid, the task his father had given him, and with how edgy his manservant was, but he made sure to look as unimposing as he could.

"Yes, Sire, I'm fine," Merlin replied tersely. It was an odd tone for the other man to adopt and that alerted Arthur to that fact he was so obviously lying.

"Liar," Arthur retorted. He met Merlin's gaze easily, seeing the surprise and shock flicker across Merlin's face. He didn't bother disguising it.

"I'm not lying, Sire," Merlin contradicted several seconds later.

"You are," Arthur insisted confidently. Merlin opened his mouth to ask just how Arthur knew that, but the Prince beat him to it, saying, "You're calling me 'Sire,' Merlin. You only do that when you're angry at me, upset, or are trying to cover for yourself by being unnaturally subservient and respectful. Seeing as I haven't done anything in the past couple of days to make you remotely irritated with me – not including the goblet I threw at you this morning, of course – and I can't for the life of me fathom anything that could have happened to upset you, you must be covering for yourself. You're lying." Arthur levelled a stern look at his manservant. It wasn't quite a glare, but it was definitely disapproving of Merlin's lies. "What's wrong?"

Merlin stared at Arthur, agape, for almost a full minute. Arthur let him, seeing for himself that he'd shocked the younger man with his observations of his behaviour, which were usually kept to himself lest Merlin think he was actually taking notice of his black-haired friend. Which left Merlin standing stony-still until he swallowed and sank down onto the edge of Arthur's bed, tearing his gaze from Arthur and staring at the floor between his feet. He was visibly shaking, pale and obviously scared of something; his eyes flickered around the room from beneath his lashes, his head lowered as every servant's should be while in the presence of royalty. He was looking everywhere but in Arthur's direction.

Confused by this change of countenance, Arthur furrowed his brow and slowly stood. Not wanting to scare Merlin further into his silence, he made sure to stay within the man's line of sight as he moved to sit beside him. There was enough space between them so Arthur would have to reach out and lean over to touch Merlin at all, giving Merlin enough time to get away if Arthur became angry – a calculated move that the knight hoped would ease Merlin's conscience on talking about whatever was bothering him.

"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur prompted gently, cautious about Merlin's reaction to his close presence.

Merlin chewed on his bottom lip, wringing his hands in his lap as he took several deep breathes. He was arguing with himself as to whether he was making the right choice, his mind turning over all of Arthur's possible reactions to what he was about to tell him – and some of the ways he could get out of saying what was at the tip of his tongue yet still stuck so firmly in his throat. When he spoke, his voice wavered ever-so-slightly.

"Arthur..." Merlin started, glancing up at the man in question before diverting his gaze almost immediately. "...Arthur, _you're_ the Once and Future King."

**Word count: 1,344**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I really, really don't like this chapter. I've rewritten it so many times I don't think it's going to get any better. My beta says it's okay, so I'll trust her opinion this time and just get on with the story. Hope you like it too. I've taken down the author's note chapter, as you may have seen. Sorry if you didn't get to see it :P Thanks for betaing BeyondTheStorm and thanks to everyone for reading!**

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Chapter 3

Arthur blinked at Merlin for a moment, wondering if he'd heard that correctly. "_I'm_ the Once and Future King?" he repeated slowly, an incredulous expression forming on his face. He wanted to laugh. It was a preposterous idea – him, Arthur Pendragon as the Once and Future King? After all his father had taught him about magic? Merlin was mad, surely!

Merlin glanced up at him again, then nodded at the floor. He was hunched in on himself now, cringing away from Arthur as if expecting him to lash out at any moment. But he didn't. Arthur remained where he was, studying his servant closely. This was not the behaviour of a man that was lying but a man fearing the truth and what that truth meant. Arthur was no fool. Merlin was scared of him, of his reaction to his words.

The smile tugging at his lips slowly fell from Arthur's face as he watched Merlin. This couldn't be right, could it? Merlin was just talking nonsense. He'd obviously spent too much time in the tavern lately. Except...if Merlin had been in the tavern at all, how had he managed to complete his chores? And to his normal excellent standard.

There was just one small problem now nagging at the Prince more than anything else.

"Merlin...if that's true … How do you know?" Arthur asked, carefully restraining what emotion came across in his voice. He had found that his voice and eyes were where he was most expressive with his emotions, but he was able to keep his tone calm and simply confused,which Arthur was, but if he wasn't careful of how he spoke, that confusion may just turn to anger when there was no need for it.

Merlin swallowed again and – if it was at all possible – looked even more scared than before.

"The druids," he muttered. He carried on before Arthur could interrupt, his words coming out in a hurried frenzy of nerves. "I know the druids that used to camp near Camelot until that other camp was attacked. I visited them once or twice – they know how to find and use some of the rare herbs that Gaius needs sometimes," he explained hurriedly, looking alarmed and finally meeting Arthur's gaze again. He seemed to calm when he saw how the anger that had flared up within Arthur dimmed at those words. He drew courage from it and calmed himself a little. "I only went once or twice, until I learned what I needed, but while I was there they told me these stories – of Emrys and the King and how magic was destined to come back to the land..."

Arthur turned away from Merlin, the words churning through his mind. So his manservant had been in direct contact with the druids? Merlin had not only interacted with sorcerers, but appeared to have actively sought them out. Did that mean that Merlin condoned the use of magic? He'd said that he only went because they knew about rare herbs that Gaius needed, but druids used herbs in a magical way. Wouldn't that mean that Gaius was also using magic with the herbs?

Nonsense. Gaius didn't use magic.

"Even so, how did that tell you that I'm the Once and Future King? Was the druid lying to my father?" Arthur demanded. The thought angered him, to know that someone lied to his father, and that someone in the court knew they were lying and yet let it happen.

Except it wasn't wholly unexpected. The druid _had_ said that he would not tell them any names.

Merlin sighed and ran a hand through his hair and over his face. He knew that this was shaky ground and that he was twisting the truth more than he should, but he couldn't tell Arthur about Kilgharrah and having contact with the dragon. "No, the druid didn't lie, not really. He just didn't say some things, like who the King or Emrys were. But they know. The seer had predicted that Camelot would be the centre of it all, so they watched and waited, even though it was dangerous to be in the kingdom and so close to the city. They told me it was you that was destined to be the King that united and ruled over all of Albion. I told them you were a tosser, a prat and a stuck-up Pendragon," he gave a wry smile, trying to get back to familiar ground where the pair could banter and joke about it as if it wasn't such a serious matter.

Arthur couldn't help but frown and clip Merlin round the back of the head, inwardly laughing to himself. Trust Merlin to say something like that to a bunch of druids concerning one of their most revered prophesies.

Merlin ducked his head and for a moment looked as though he didn't know how to react to Arthur. His amusement must have shown through in his expression, however, as the manservant grinned up at him all of a sudden, and the tension between them dissolved as that dopey grin appeared.

Letting a comfortable silence fall between them, Arthur thought more on what the druid had said about the King in the prophesy. The words "_Emrys is vital to the King's survival" _and_ "without Emrys, the King would surely fall, failing to claim that which is rightfully his. What is rightfully theirs" _coming to mind like an echo. Just who could this Emrys person be? He wanted to ask Merlin whether the druids had told him who Emrys was, but the manservant had gone back to his chores, still looking rather distracted, himself.

Instead of quizzing his servant on the things Merlin shouldn't have known – because he shouldn't have gone to find the druids in the first place (_but then Gaius wouldn't know how to use those herbs he needed,_ a voice sounding eerily like Merlin argued) – the Prince decided it would be better to just get on with the paperwork he had been working on before the summons to the throne room.

However, in retrospect, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Working on the reports gave Arthur's mind too much freedom to dwell on the most important matter at hand instead of keeping him occupied as he had hoped it would. He quickly found himself reading the same paragraph over and over without taking anything in. Merlin seemed the only one of the pair to notice that he was doing it, pausing in his work to watch Arthur staring blankly at the page in his hand.

The warlock sighed to himself. He'd been so relieved that Arthur hadn't just laughed and brushed him off, and that he hadn't shouted and raged at Merlin for admitting he knew druids. Arthur didn't share all of his father's prejudices against magic, he knew, but there was still a blurred line that he found hard not to know how to stay on the right side of. Sheer luck had been on his side _this time_ he knew. He just didn't know at what cost this acceptance came. Arthur was distracted and probably wanted answers, so why wasn't he asking any of the questions Merlin could tell were on his mind?

Five minutes passed and Merlin couldn't take any more. He put down the scrubbing brush he'd been using to clean the floor and pushed himself to his feet.

"Why don't you go and train with the knights, Arthur?" Merlin suggested, going over to tidy the Prince's desk as an excuse to jolt the older man from his thoughts. And jolt him from his thoughts he did. Arthur jumped at the sound of Merlin's voice, looking up at the servant with wide eyes, almost as if he had forgotten Merlin was there. He probably had, to be fair.

"What? Oh. Um, no. No, I should get onto starting that list for my father," Arthur sighed, putting the report back on the pile of those to yet be looked through.

Merlin frowned at him, but didn't say anything against his master's decision. Uther would never accept that Arthur was the Once and Future King, and it was safer for them both to keep it quiet. "Will you be going to the library, or would you like me to ask Geoffrey for any books on the royal bloodlines?" he asked.

"I'll go myself. Hopefully Morgana won't be able to find me for a while if I'm in the library when she returns from her shopping trip," Arthur muttered, wearing his own frown. Morgana had spent the whole morning at the market that had been set up in a village not far from the city by a group of wandering tradesmen. It was a relief to get the older woman out of his hair for the day, but he'd felt uneasy since she left, like she was just using shopping as an ulterior motive for something else.

Merlin nodded and stepped back, letting Arthur rise from his chair without crowding him. "Want some help?"

Arthur shot Merlin a confused look. "Can you even read, Merlin?" he teased, smirking playfully at the younger boy and ruffling his hair as he passed. "No, you can stay here and finish tidying up. Then you can polish my armour and sharpen my sword," the Prince called back over his shoulder as he left.

**Word count: 1,574**


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